Mary Alessabelle Capulet
by Italian-Rose-xxx
Summary: Alessa is adopted and eager to know more about her mysterious past. Then, one night, while working on a project about the Capulets, she discovers something that will change her life forever.
1. Who am I?

Mary Alessabelle Capulet

**Introduction:- **Here is the introduction to Mary Alessa Capulet. Firstly, I would like to say that there will be a mix between Shakespearean language and modern language. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I will enjoy writing it. Please read a character description for Mary in the profile of me.

Chapter One, Who am I?

Design a project about your favourite family from Romeo and Juliet.

I looked down at the A3 poster paper, which was blank, I might add, and drummed my fingers against it. I only had a damn months time to finish this stupid project and I was stumped.

_The Capulets_

The words taunted me, leaping out at me. How the fuck was I going to able to fill a poster with information about my favourite family when I didn't know anything about them, bar their names.

I whipped out my phone and texted my best friend, Darcie.

_How u gettin on wit dumass project?_

A second later, she texted back.

_Nicht so gut (_Darcie loved to speaking German) _Yeah, I tink I'm gonna get a Ng on dis one, wot bout u? Get ny more info n da Caps just yet?_

_A NG is guaranteed, can't find ny info, wot a loada bollox_

A second later and Momma was calling me.

'Alessa, dinner!' I raced down, glad to get away from the damn project.

I didn't get away from it for long.

'How's the project going?' Momma asked, while stirring something in the frying pan. 'Need any help, you just ask.'

'Mmmm,' I said, rolling my eyes.

'For Gods sake, Al, can't you just thank me properly? And no eye-rolling, it's not ladylike.'

'Thank you and I'm sorry, Momma.'

I looked at Momma. Short. Bony. Thin-lipped. Greasy-haired.

I look nothing like her.

I was adopted when I was three.

'Momma, may I please go on the Internet after dinner to look up about my project?' I asked, rolling my eyes again and then smiling sweetly at her so as not to get her going on the fact that it's not ladylike to roll your eyes.

'Of course.'

After a dinner of beans and eggs, my fave, I rushed upstairs to connect to the Internet, which takes a good fifteen minutes since it's fucking dial-up.

_Capulets. Romeo and Juliet._

I type the words into the search engine and hit send.

About a million answers but one caught my eye.

I hit the link and a load of information flowed up.

_The Capulets were a rich family in 15th century Verona. They are famed for their feud with the Montagues and have had a legendary play written about them and the love story between their daughter Juliet and the Montague son, Romeo._

It sounded like a story but it shocked me. Were the Capulets real? Lady Capulet? Lord Capulet? Tybalt? Juliet? Did they all exist?

I scrolled down through the page. I was never going to finish reading this.

Then I saw a link that caught my attention.

_Juliet's missing sister._

I clicked on the link.

Words flowed onto the page.

_Mary Alessabelle Capulet, older sister of Juliet Capulet, is said to have gone missing on the day of her 3rd birthday. Some people believed that she was rumoured to have been taken to the future and brought up there, in a time-warp._

Time-warps weren't real. Were they?

This Mary Alessabelle character was probably long dead.

I looked at the painting that the artist had drawn of Mary Alessabelle. She was a cute little kid.

Around her nek was a locket.

My locket.

The locket I'd had.

Since I was three.

I raced over to the jewellery box. My hand was robotic as I took out the necklace and held it up to the computer, when I sat back down obviously.

It was the Capulet Crest, on my necklace. I looked at the words that had been written on it.

_**Turn three times and thou wilt find thy family.**_

_Thou. Thy. Wilt._

All Shakespearean language. I stared at Mary Alessabelle and at myself in the mirror. A girl from the 15th century. A girl from 2009.

So, it wasn't possible, was it?

The question seeped like a drug through my head, turning me upside down and inside out, filling me up.

_Could I be her?_


	2. Two Households

Mary Alessabelle Capulet.

Chapter Two

I stared at the picture of the little girl, searching her face for signs she might be me.

The dimples and roses in her cheeks, the emerald green eyes, the chocolate brown curls that kicked out at the ends.

How could she be me? She lived in the 1500s. .

'Ali, Al, you'd want to be finished on the internet. It's nearly bed-time.'

Momma's shout made me jump. I ran downstairs to say goodnight to her. I didn't turn off the internet though, I needed that.

'Momma, where are our photo-albums?'

'In that drawer, why?'

I walked over to the drawer and opened it. I sifted through my albums until I found a green and blue one titled 'Little Alessa'

'I just want to look through them,' I answered Momma, turning around to face her.

I flicked through to find one. There I was. Serious little face. Wispy brown bob.

I showed Momma.

'When was this taken?'

'Just after we got you.'

This was all I had. This was all I had to deal with.

'Momma, may I please scan the picture onto the computer? It's so precious and I don't want to lose it.'

I was really sucking up to her.

'Sure, darling, that would be lovely.' Said Momma

I went upstairs to my room. First, I scanned the photo, cause I knew Momma would be checking up on me. That was what she was like.

I held up the photo to Mary's face and I stared.

It was me. Yet it wasn't. Her pretty face, smiling, against my ugly, serious one.

I glared.

If that had been a photo, instead of a painting, maybe, oh, maybe.

Then, I could tell.

But I couldn't place her against the pastel oils of the page.

Couldn't place her, couldn't place me.

I felt like my whole life was a sham. If that was me, I had a different name, a different nationality (Italian), different birthday (14th June 1579) and, bloody fuck, a different time period I should have grown up in.

I stared at the locket around Mary's neck and the one on mine. Those lockets, that locket, it was the only key to my past.

I looked longingly at Mary Alessabelle's face again before I clicked off the computer.

There was no point staring any longer at something I couldn't understand out.

It was late, ten thirty to be exact and I had school in the morning.

I ran into the bathroom and changed into my tatty t-shirt pyjama set and ran my fingers through my greasy hair, greasing it up even more.

As I was scrubbing my teeth, I couldn't help staring at the face- I refused to call it my face- in the mirror.

'Are you Mary Alessabelle Capulet?' I asked. 'Or are you Alessa O' Sullivan?'

'Who are you?'

She stared back, her lips taunting me. Copying me.

I went to bed.

But I couldn't sleep.

All I saw in my head was Mary Alessabelle's face.

My face.


End file.
